


there's a war between us and home

by poedameronvevo



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Battle of Scarif, Romance, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-27
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:54:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22440661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poedameronvevo/pseuds/poedameronvevo
Summary: Jyn Erso and Cassian Andor make peace with their deaths on Scarif, but the Force has a will of its own. They live, and seizing their second chance, begin the long journey of finding their way back to the Rebellion and discovering where home really is.
Relationships: Cassian Andor/Jyn Erso
Comments: 36
Kudos: 59





	1. Escape from Scarif; Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there! If this fic seems familiar, it is a repost. I had posted it sometime last year for a couple prompts and had planned to turn it into a longer piece. However, I was unhappy with the direction it was going so here is the new and improved version! I hope you enjoy it!

_“We’ll take the next chance. And the next. On and on until we win... or the chances are spent”_ — Jyn Erso

  


* * *

  


**Scarif**  
**Abrion Sector**  
**Outer Rim Territories**

Cassian didn’t expect to open his eyes (ever again). When he does, they _burn_. 

Still, the first thing he searches for is Jyn—Jyn, who’s lying by his side in the sand. She looks as if she were just resting as she would in the long stretches of time they spent together in the U-wing.

“Jyn.” He reaches for her, ignoring the pain in his shoulder from the blaster wound. “Jyn, come on.”

She’s unresponsive in his arms, her eyes barely flickering open when he holds her face close to his.

“We have to go,” he still says.

Cassian looks up and sees Scarif gone.

The superlaser levelled everything. The beach they had settled to die on is evaporated, and the lush green foliage has been disintegrated. The cracks running along the surface of the planet spiral around them like a web waiting to break.

The ringing in his ears drowns out everything else, but Cassian feels Scarif trembling and breaking apart underneath him, dying instead.

His injured knee throbs when he shoulders Jyn’s weight against his own, but he staggers up on one leg, then the other, and walks.

The Imperial Security Complex is in ruins. Cassian looks up to see the top of the spire destroyed, the dish blown off. What remains is crumbling, and will soon sink into the ground.

For a moment, Cassian turns. They can go there. He can get Jyn there and they can save Kaytoo, then they can see if Chirrut and Baze have made it, and then they’ll find Bodhi and the shuttle and then they can make it out of here in time.

Scarif rumbles underneath him. Cassian looks back to the beach, over to where the superlaser had made contact. The crust explodes, spewing dust and dirt and lava from the core. 

The ground shakes with another small earthquake. Cassian stumbles and cries out in pain when he lands on his aching knee. He looks back at the complex, and knows there’s no chance.

“Kay…”

_Climb, climb._

They wouldn’t make it back. Kaytoo knew that. Cassian has to accept that. There’s a slim chance, if any, of saving Jyn. But, he has to take that chance. For Jyn. For Galen. For everyone who gave their lives here.

Cassian inhales another lung full of ash and ember and coughs, chest constricting. Every breath is becoming agony as the oxygen levels on Scarif plummet lower. He gets back up on unsteady legs, shouldering Jyn’s weight against him. 

He finds the skeleton of a crashed X-wing closer to the security complex. It would never get off the ground again, Cassian knows, but his spirits dim when another quake opens up the ground and swallows the ship whole. 

They need to find a working ship, and Cassian needs to move fast if he wants to get one up before Scarif takes it. 

The further away from the site of the explosion they are, the better their chances. 

He doesn’t look around then, doesn’t want to see the odds stacked against them. He just keeps moving despite the pain, the stars spotting at the edges of his vision. He keeps Jyn close and his faith carries her with him.

He doesn’t know how long it takes. Time seems to move around them slowly as the planet dies. They’re past the security complex when another stronger tremor rocks through Scarif and topples it, sending the ruins tumbling to the ground. 

Cassian falls to the ground with a sharp cry, vision going dark for a moment when his head hits the ground. He squeezes his eyes shut, but there’s little relief from the sting of the dust and unshed tears. His lungs burn and his stomach twists, but he needs to get back up, he could see a landing platform in the distance, he just needs…

… Cassian blinks and finds Jyn lying across from him; stars spark and explode around her in his vision and Cassian reaches out, taking her hand in his. He needs to get back up, he needs to take her there, but his lungs are full of dust and smoke and he can’t feel his legs and he’s so, so tired.

“Jyn… Jyn, I’m sorry.”

… ...

Cassian doesn’t expect to open his eyes (again) but when he does, Jyn has him. 

The back of his heels scrape along paved duracrete. Cracked, broken duracrete, but man made all the same. 

She made it, she actually made it. _Stars._

“Cassian... stay with me. There’s a ship. We can make it.”

A ship. She’d found them a ship. And they will make it, they _will._

“Jyn.”

She lets him go and he stumbles up, grinning.

“We can do this,” he says. “Let’s go.”

Jyn stumbles, looking straight ahead.

“Jyn? Jyn, look at me.” Cassian grabs her shoulders, trying to get her to focus on him. Jyn just looks right through him before her eyes flutter back and she collapses in his arms.

“Jyn, no!” 

She’s done it though; she’s saved them. 

“We can make it from here, come on.”

The Lambda T-4a shuttle is sitting right there, boarding ramp open, ready and waiting for Imperials that will never board. There’s damage on the bow of the ship near the viewport, but it looks superficial and Cassian can’t bring himself to worry about it. 

This is their next chance, and he’s taking it.

“I’ve got you.”

He takes Jyn again and pulls her up the boarding ramp.

He lays her across the seats in the passenger area then stumbles into the cockpit. The shuttle is already shaking with another quake underneath, but the controls are recognizable. Hands trembling, Cassian pulls up the boarding ramp and has the engines primed before the ground opens up around them. The shuttle groans, leaning over on its starboard side. Cassian knows he only has moments before it falls into the opening cracks. He pulls up the flight log and punches in the coordinates for the nearest planet as the shuttle lifts safely from the growing hole underneath. He doesn’t care if it’s inhabited or not. If they have enough luck to wake up again, they’ll figure it out from there.

For now, he punches the hyperdrive, smiling weakly as Kay’s voice snarks at him.

_We only have a 131 to 14382 chance to make the jump safely from the planet._

“I’ll take it,” Cassian whispers. 

Hyperspace wraps around them, twisting the surface of Scarif into something unrecognizable. The sudden change in speed slams Cassian back against the seat and he grips the controls, trying to see past the white spots blurring his vision. He’s never gotten lightheaded during a takeoff before, not even the one from Jedha. But he’s exhausted, and he can’t get enough oxygen in his lungs. He’ll be lucky if he makes the jump.

The lights turn bright and blinding as the shuttle is shot into hyperspace, everything going white, then dark for Cassian.

  


* * *

  


**The _Devastator_**  
**Hyperspace**

“Colonel Djo, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

“Grand Moff Tarkin.” The Colonel bows and the hologram fritzes out for a moment. “I have reason to believe that there are… more survivors from Scarif.”

Tarkin steeples his fingers under his chin. 

_Impossible_ , is his first thought. They had just captured the _Tantive IV_ ; everyone but the Rebel Princess of Alderaan had been dealt with— _Vader was seeing to her himself_ —and Tarkin had seen to the destruction of the Security Complex on Scarif personally.

Colonel Djo continues. 

“We’ve intercepted transmissions between the Ukion military base and one of their fleet cruisers. An Imperial shuttle dropped out of hyperspace and was detained. Flight logs confirm it came from Scarif. The shuttle was destroyed, but only after boarding parties searched the craft. I would request your permission to investigate, sir.”

Tarkin nods.

“Permission granted.”

Colonel Djo salutes and the holo cuts.

In the quiet confines of his office, Tarkin allows himself a moment of annoyance. He breathes out sharply through his narrow nose, hand returning to his chin to hide the scowl on his face.

Had he really been so arrogant as to think he had rid himself of Krennic and his gaffes so easily? 

Even in death, Krennic was proving as sharp a thorn as ever in his side.


	2. Escape from Scarif; Part 2

**Ukio**  
**Abrion Sector**  
**Outer Rim Territories**

Jyn wakes with the warm sunlight against her cheek. There’s a dull ache at the crown of her head, and she feels lost in the fog clogging her mind. _Drugged_ , she knows. Sedatives, most likely.

Still, she supposes, it’s better than _dead._

A droid beeps.

“Yes, she’s coming around now. Go easy on her.”

More beeping. Something small and sharp pricks into her skin and Jyn jerks away.

Jyn opens her eyes and someone— _not Cassian_ —hovers by her bedside. A Duros. Doctor. She taps at a datapad before looking Jyn over again.

“Emdee Five has just given you another round of fluids; you’re dehydrated. How are you feeling?”

_Where’s Cassian_ , Jyn wants to ask.

“Dehydrated.” The words are like sand in her throat and she coughs until her chest hurts.

“Here, have some water,” the woman says. She motions towards the medical droid, who holds out a cup. Jyn takes it, gulping the warm liquid down. She sputters, but the coughing stops.

“I’m Doctor Arrra. What is your name?”

Jyn eyes her.

“Where am I?”

“You’re in a medical facility on Ukio. The military found your shuttle. It was caught in a tractor beam before you entered orbit and crashed.”

Jyn frowns and looks out the large transparisteel frame to see a blue sky. _Not an Imperial doctor_ , but…

“Ukio is just a short jump from Scarif,” Arrra pries.

“We’re refugees,” Jyn says.

Arrra raises her eyebrows. She beats her to her next question, sitting in a chair beside her bed.

“Is the pilot your friend?”

Jyn’s attention snaps back to her.

“Is he okay?”

Arrra nods. 

“You were both in pretty rough shape; he’s recovered well too.”

Jyn studies her face. Arrra blinks slowly. Jyn doesn’t remember the last time she’s been seen by a doctor. The calm aura Arrra radiates makes her skin itch.

“Where are we, specifically?”

“In a medical facility in Ukial, the major city on Ukio.”

“Imperial?”

“No.”

Jyn breathes and looks back out the window. That’ll make leaving a lot easier.

“Ukio does not make a habit of collaborating with Imperials.”

“Thank you,” Jyn says, and she means it.

“Scarif does not have a local population. Not after the Imperials started using it. What happened there?”

The images flicker in Jyn’s mind like a bad holo film. Helping Cassian out of the security complex; looking back as they stumbled along the beach to see the Death Star firing, its green superlaser cutting right across the top of the complex where Krennic had been; watching the superlaser level the surface of Scarif in a bright yellow light; making peace with the fact that after a lifetime of hardships, that was how she wanted to go— knowing she had finally looked up and done something about it. 

Arrra looks at her, not as a refugee, not as a rebel or a traitor, but as a case to solve.

“Destroyed. The Death Star.”

That cracks her.

“Destroyed? The Death Star is only—”

“The whole surface was blown up,” Jyn says.

Arrra backs off at the tone of her voice, and Jyn throws the thin medbay issue sheets from her body, finding a fresh pair of nondescript clothes folded at the foot of the bed. 

“You should really rest a bit more.”

“I need to see Cassian.” She needs to get him out of here. They need to find their way back to Yavin IV, make sure the Rebellion has gotten the information, to rejoin the fight. She paws through the civvies, finding a shirt, pants, undergarments—

“Where is it? There was a necklace,” she snaps, teeth bared.

Arrra nods towards the medical droid who produces it from a secret compartment and offers it.

Jyn swipes it and hangs it back around her neck, glaring at the droid.

“Apologies,” Arrra says, “but neither of you had any I.D., registrations, anything. That was the only personal effect either of you had.”

Jyn eyes Arrra up and down one last time, any last bit of goodwill dissipated. 

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Arrra says. “I’ll see how your friend is doing.”

Jyn watches her go before opening the door to the refresher. There’s a whole sonic shower and she can’t remember the last time she’s had a proper wash. Her hair feels greasy against her face, and Scarif’s dust is still caught under her nails. She’ll wash, then she’ll get Cassian and they’ll find a way out of here.

Ten minutes later, the water is still warm and Jyn is feeling selfish. A little woozy too, because she sits on the floor and lets the warm water run over her. She grabs the kyber crystal hanging around her neck and grips it— as if she could use it to anchor herself if she holds on tight enough. 

If she stays in there long enough, maybe she’ll think of something other than their last minutes on Scarif. The dirt from under her nails is gone, the last of the dust and grime and ash from her hair had swirled down the drain a while ago. Still, she feels as if she can’t quite breathe properly. She presses the crystal to her lips, something she had seen her mother so often do.

Something sharp cuts into her lip, and Jyn tastes blood.

_It’s cracked_ , she realizes when she pulls the kyber crystal away from her lips. The red stain washes away with the warm stream of water, leaving the crystal clean. Jyn pulls her lower lip into her mouth and nurses the wound. She immediately suspects Arrra, but that’s just not possible. Her father had told her about how strong they were, how they could survive most temperatures and pressures. Mining kyber was easy, the crystals would withstand whatever the rock around them could not.

_The strongest stars have hearts of kyber._ Then…

Jyn closes her eyes and tries not to cry.

_Trust the Force._

_Is that what had happened then,_ she wonders. Is that why she survived Scarif and Chirrut, Baze, and Bodhi didn’t? 

It’s not fair, is it? That she came from a life of crime and complacency under the Imperial flag, only to be spared for one moment of courage? Bodhi risked his life for weeks carrying that information, Chirrut and Baze had believed in the Force for longer than she had been alive, and yet she had gotten lucky with a crystal.

Jyn rises and turns the sonic shower off. She gets dressed, shrugging on the plain black top and navy trousers, pausing on the white jacket before pulling that on too. It doesn’t matter what she thinks of it; it all fits well enough. Besides, she’s sure her own clothes were unsalvageable after Scarif.

Jyn still feels naked when she pulls her hair back into its low bun, but she doubts the medcenter is well stocked with blasters or other weapons. She leaves her quarters weighing her chances of swiping a security guard’s when she sees two stormtroopers and an Imperial officer approaching Arrra.

Jyn backs away, knowing Ukio might not collaborate with the Empire willingly, but the Empire doesn’t need willingness. Complacency just makes things easier. Jyn would know.

But if there are Imperials here, that means they’re looking for someone, something. _Survivors._

Jyn escapes down the corridor while the Imperials are still occupied with Arrra.

She doesn’t make it far before hearing the static-crackle of more stormtrooper comms. She ducks into the first room she can, slipping the door shut quietly before the two patrols notice.

Those two troopers are her only shot at a decent weapon. Now she just needs to figure out how to take them out.

“I don’t know,” she hears one say as they pass by. “It all seems like a wild bantha chase to me. You even see the reports? Scarif imploded. No way there are any survivors.” 

“You don’t have the clearance to look at those reports, laserbrain. Besides, I’ll take this posting over sanitation any day.”

Their voices trail further and Jyn braces herself, poising her hand over the door’s control panel. She’ll take both of them out from behind. 

The door slides open but someone grabs her arm, pulling Jyn back from the hall. A hand fits over her mouth, but she doesn’t scream. She twists in the person’s arms before the door slides shut again, knocking the hands from her. She jabs at the person’s side, but they block that too, gripping her arm tight and—

“Cassian!”

She shouts his name as if he were across a battlefield, and maybe that’s the only way she knows how to say it, the only way she’s ever tasted it on her tongue. 

“ _Shh!”_

Cassian crowds her against the door, and Jyn goes easily.

She reaches out, touching his face. He’s alive, he’s _okay_. Jyn blinks away the memories of hauling his limp body towards the shuttle. Them here now is all that matters. She pulls him closer, and Cassian fits himself against her without wasting another second.

“Jyn.” He sounds just as relieved as she feels back in his arms.

She opens her mouth, but her throat closes and she doesn’t want to cry again, not in front of him. So she hugs him tighter and doesn’t let go, the solid, familiar press of his body against hers is enough to keep her together.

He has that look in his eyes from the elevator when they pull apart, of something sad and longing and resigned.

“Cassian?”

“You have to see this,” he whispers.

He turns the room’s holoscreen on and the Emperor’s voice fills Jyn with dread.

_“_ — _the millions of lives lost today. Men, women, children._ _This violent act of treason will be dealt with. Justice will reign down on these so-called rebels, these_ terrorists. _This station will be avenged, I assure you._

The aurebesh crawl along the bottom of the screen confirms it: The Death Star has been destroyed. Only, it wasn’t a planet-killer. Just a security complex, a peace keeper. Jyn bites her tongue to keep herself from screaming as cheers erupt from the crowds on Coruscant. 

This doesn’t feel like a victory. Not anymore. 

Cassian is looking at her, waiting for her answer when she looks to him.

They’ve done their part. They fought their way to Scarif, they fought their way off of it, they’ve given all that they had. But Jyn will keep fighting if she has to— to have another chance; to help the galaxy, to avenge Bodhi, and Chirrut, and Baze, and K-2SO. 

What other choice do they have? The Imperials know they’re here, and they will hunt Jyn and Cassian down.

“We have to go,” she says and Cassian nods.

A heavy knock comes to the door.

“Hey, open up in there!”

_The patrol._

Jyn looks at Cassian.

“Ready?”

“I’m right behind you.”

Jyn palms the control panel and the door slides open.

“This room wasn’t occupied a minute ago,” the first trooper says. “State your business.”

This is going to be a lot harder than Jyn wanted it to be.

“What does it look like we’re doing?” She asks.

The two troopers glance at each other. They don’t raise their blasters.

“You’re coming with us.”

Jyn nods, stepping out of the room slowly with Cassian right behind her, arms raised.

Jyn really, really didn’t want to do this without the element of surprise, but Cassian’s there, watching her from the corner of his eye as the troopers walk them down the corridor, waiting for her signal.

She swallows. It’s now or never.

Jyn nods and kicks her foot back, hooking it around the trooper’s ankle.

“Hey, what the—!” The trooper stumbles forward and Jyn grabs his dominant arm, twisting it as she spins to face him. It works; the trooper’s grip on the blaster loosens, just enough for Jyn to yank it from his grasp and smash the butt of the blaster into his helmet. White and black plasteel chip on impact and the trooper goes down easily.

A blaster shot rings off and Jyn whirls around on the other trooper.

“Cassian!”

She fires her blaster, catching the other trooper in the side. He groans and slumps to the floor. Jyn picks the second blaster up and hands it to Cassian.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

Cassian massages his wrist with a grimace.

“No, just didn’t have the upper hand.” 

“Come on, we have to go.”

  


* * *

  


“This is a medical facility,” the doctor says. “Any injured persons on an unsanctioned craft would be treated here until they are well enough to be taken in for questioning.”

Colonel Djo hums, bored. He has already verified the specifics of the incident with the commanding officer who oversaw the recovery of the shuttle, of course. The survivors have not been deemed recovered. “You’ll find that transparency is much more rewarded in the Empire.”

“Ukio is not under Imperial jurisdiction.”

“Yes, but that will change soon,” Djo says. 

The sound of blaster fire ricochets through the corridor. 

“Ah, those must be our _refugees_ now.”

There’s a shift in Arrra’s calm demeanor. _Good_.

Djo motions to his troopers and they grab her. 

“Take her to Interrogation Room C-11. Let’s see if her refugeestories hold up.”

Not that he cares. He’ll find the survivors before she gives anything up, he’s sure. They can’t have gone far, it’s only a matter of time.

He will make sure the leak is contained, and Scarif will remain just a freak planetary core explosion, another tragedy.

With Tarkin’s demise, opportunities are to be had. Positions need to be filled. There’s no doubt in Djo’s mind that there is value in making sure the Death Star’s true nature stays with it in the grave.

Djo reaches for his comm.

“Prepare my shuttle. I want to personally see to my guest aboard The _Accuser.”_

There is a discomfiting moment of silence before the comm crackles back to life.

“The shuttle… your shuttle is gone. Sir, the survivors— they’ve escaped.”

Djo frowns. Maybe they’d have a use for the good doctor after all.


	3. Rendezvous Point Break

**Yavin IV**  
**Gordian Reach**  
**Outer Rim Territories**

“Next time we’re stealing a non-Imperial shuttle,” Cassian grumbles, turning down another Imperial hail. “Strap in, I’m taking us out of hyperspace.”

“Well, we don’t really have much choice right now, do we?” Jyn gives Cassian a sidelong glance as she takes the co-pilot’s chair. “I don’t think the Imperials leave civilian vessels lying around.”

Cassian’s hand pauses against the throttle. Jyn doesn’t realize how much she can sound like Kaytoo. Kay would get particularly sour whenever Cassian mentioned it, but Cassian used to find it amusing when they bickered. 

“Cassian?” Jyn watches him, voice gone soft.

Cassian shakes himself out of it. It wouldn’t be poetic if they had escaped Scarif just to crash right into Yavin IV.

“A cargo shuttle would have been nice,” he says, pulling the throttle back.

They aren’t even fully out of hyperspace when the shuttle is hit. The impact thrusts them both forward as the scream of metal scraping metal pierces Cassian’s ears. 

The control console flashes red and beeps frantically at them, listing off the immediate damage.

“ _Kriff,”_ Cassian swears and smacks the console, pulling hard at the controls to free the shuttle from the object they’re caught against. “Hold onto something!”

“The port wing is stuck!”

“I know, I know!”

If that’s torn off, this really will be their last chance.

Cassian thrusts the controls down, feels the definitive snap more than he hears it, and suddenly all is quiet.

Cassian falls back into the seat and exhales. Waits for it. The shuttle doesn’t blow up. Nothing breaks off. There’s no tear leaking their oxygen into cold space.

“No significant damage—” Jyn goes quiet as she reads the diagnostics— “one of the sublight engines was hit. It’s operating at sixty-five percent. We still have the port wing.”

Cassian raises an eyebrow. For the very first time, he wonders what their odds of a safe landing are and gets no response.

“What was that?” He asks.

“I’m not sure,” Jyn says, checking the short ranged scanners. 

They both look out the viewport, trying to catch a glimpse of what they’re dealing with. Whatever has hit them, there’s a lot more of it out here. 

“Looks like debris of some sort,” Jyn says as something floats by, glinting in the sunlight. “Scanners are picking up energy signals. Ship parts?”

Cassian takes them closer to Yavin IV, navigating through the debris.

He sees it then, coming up on the planet’s orbit: the Death Star’s dome, cracked and broken, just a dark, useless spec against Yavin’s blood red surface.

Cassian stares, unable to believe what he’s seeing.

_“Cassian.”_

Jyn is staring too, eyes wide with awe and fear as she realizes what they’ve stumbled upon. 

The Imperials must’ve found the rebel base. The rebels must’ve gotten the plans. Cassian looks at Jyn again, takes her hand when he finds tears in her eyes.

“We did it, Jyn. You avenged your father. You finished his life’s work.”

Jyn squeezes Cassian’s hand and he watches the tears slip down her face before taking one last look at the dome as it skirts across Yavin’s surface. It’ll be mere hours before it’s pulled into Yavin’s atmo, and only cycles after that before the gasses break it down, leaving no traces left of the planet killer.

 _Good_.

“We need to go to Yavin IV,” Cassian says.

Jyn blinks, coming back to herself.

“What? No, the Rebellion would have deserted the base. Even if they destroyed the Death Star, more Imperials will come.”

Cassian knows this. They’re most definitely already there. Imperial protocol would have an ISB unit stationed here conducting an investigation, both for the attack on an Imperial installation and an old rebel base. 

“I have no idea where they’re going, Jyn, I don’t know where the next base is. I need to access the files on Yavin IV to find out where to look next.”

“Surely you have other contacts, other rebels you could get in touch with,” Jyn protests.

“They were all on Scarif,” Cassian says.

Jyn goes quiet.

They don’t speak until Yavin IV engulfs the shuttle’s entire viewport and gravity pulls them into atmo. 

“I don’t like this,” Jyn says.

“I don’t either,” Cassian assures her.

He guides the shuttle through the trees, the surroundings growing more and more familiar until the silhouette of the Massassi Temple cuts through the lush green.

The Imperials lost no time moving in. They’re crawling everywhere—officers, ISB agents, troops, pilots. The squadrons of X-wings, A-wings, and Y-wings have been replaced with rows of TIEs. Cassian hardly recognizes the base.

“ _Kriff._ ”

“We’re too late,” Jyn says. “Cassian, turn back.”

There’s no turning back now, not when the comms panel lights up with an Imperial hail.

“They’ve spotted us and we won’t be able to make it out of here in this shuttle, not now,” Cassian says, reaching to open communications. “I have a plan. Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Jyn says, not missing a second.

  


* * *

  


“And what brings you all the way to the Outer Rim, Joreth Sward?” 

The ISB agent looks down her long nose at him, holding a datapad with all of his records on display. He already knows what’s there—a recon mission to Byss somewhere between Kafrene and Jedha, failure to check in, status: MIA. 

“Information,” Cassian says, guiding Jyn to the agent roughly by her arm. She obeys, keeping her head down as the agent inspects her too. “After I escaped a rebel cell on Dantooine with the help of this one, I was able to intercept incoming rebel comms which led me here.”

Koirva snorts, motioning to the two stormtroopers at either side of her. “You may proceed, Agent Sward. I’ll take care of this prisoner. Good luck trying to find anything of use. The Rebels destroyed most evidence in their escape.”

None of his training prepared him for this. He had expected more. Had been ready to recount the last few weeks to her in detail with the threat of an interrogation looming over his head. 

Cassian stands there in an Imperial officer’s borrowed uniform, in front of a ship that isn’t even registered to him, momentarily stunned by the permission. But he’s back on his feet quickly, giving her a sharp nod before making his way back into the base. He doesn’t look back at Jyn, can’t afford to.

Retrieving the planetary information he needs won’t take long, especially if Koirva is right and the rebels did manage to purge all of it from the systems. Assuming the Imperials have already dealt with any rebels they managed to capture, they would need time to process Jyn and send for a prisoner transport. He’ll go back for her as soon as he can.

There’s another flurry of activity when Cassian walks into the command center.

“I can’t make heads or tails of this,” one officer grumbles. “Where did these rebels learn their encryption, the Hutts?” 

“Even the Hutts have better systems than that,” another officer replies.

“Do the Hutts even know how to use a datapad?” The first one grumbles.

They pay no attention to Cassian as he slips by and takes his place at an unoccupied navicomputer. If he’s lucky and they’re wrong, he’ll be able to download whatever flight logs and system coordinates were left after the purge. Decrypting the data is easy enough, all the real work and time will go into narrowing their search for the new Rebel base. He pulls a datastick from his boot and connects it to the navicomputer and gets to work.

The hologram of the system fritzes in and out precariously, damaged in the Imperial raid. Still, Cassian manages to find bits and broken pieces of flight logs that he downloads

“Did you manage to salvage anything?” One of the officers asks him a few minutes later. The officer peers at the hologram, trying to discern what he’s seeing.

“I think I’m on to something, sir,” Cassian replies, “just let me try this—” and enters the code to destroy the rest of the data on the navicomputer. 

The hologram fritzes again before shutting down completely.

“What did you _do?”_ The officer hisses, shoving Cassian to the side to inspect the damage.

“I don’t know!” Cassian replies, slipping the datastick back into his boot before rebooting the navicomputer. “These Rebels and their blasted encryptions…”

The hologram lights up once more, showing only a stretch of blue static.

“Agent,” the officer begins, the veil of patience in his voice thin, “do you know how much time and effort it took to get that navicomputer operational?”

“I’ll find someone in maintenance and see if they can repair it,” Cassian says, already making his exit before the officer can report him for reconditioning. “Sir.”

A patrol passes by in the corridor and, once they’re a safe distance, Cassian takes out his commlink.

“Jyn, what’s your status?”

No answer.

“Jyn, are you there? Jyn, do you copy? _Jyn._ ”

An off-duty officer rounds the corridor and Cassian quickly slides the commlink back into his sleeve, nodding as they pass each other.

_Keep moving._

He reaches the Imperial detention block, the same one where the Rebellion kept their own prisoners, and Jyn still hasn’t reached out. He approaches the two guards stationed at the only occupied cell.

“I’m looking for the rebel prisoner.”

“Sorry,” the stormtrooper to the left says, “no visitors for this prisoner.”

Cassian flashes his Imperial I.D.

“Joreth Sward. I’m the one who brought her in.”

The trooper shakes his head.

“Koirva’s orders. No visitors until she’s processed for transport.”

“Well then.” Cassian nods, inching his hand slowly towards his blaster. “Let me process her faster.”

Cassian whips it from its holster, blasting the stormtrooper in his stomach. He’s whirling around on the second trooper before the first one hits the floor.

“What the—!”

Cassian shoots again, landing a clean shot that marks the pristine white armor right over the trooper’s heart.

“Jyn. Jyn, can you hear me?” Cassian steps over the bodies and presses his palm to the cell door’s scanner, but the panel beeps ominously, admitting neither Joreth nor Cassian.

Cassian sees her head lift slowly in the shadows. “Cassian?”

“Stay back.”

Cassian blasts the panel and wrenches the bars open, seeking Jyn out in the dim light. 

“Are you okay?”

Cassian gently tilts her face towards the light when Jyn won’t look at him. There’s a dark purple bruise blooming in the red welt under her eye, spreading to her cheek. She stays quiet, licking her tongue across the split in her lower lip.

“ _Jyn_ , what happened?”

“Not everyone is happy we blew up the Death Star.”

The guilt curls in Cassian’s stomach, hot and heavy and angry—at himself, mostly. He should’ve known, shouldn’t have put her in this position.

“Cassian.” Jyn grips his wrists, rubs her thumbs over their pulsepoint until Cassian releases her vest from his fists. “They would have done worse if they knew what we did.”

Cassian snorts.

“That’s not helping,” but there’s nothing left for it now. “They’ll be coming after us soon. Can you stand?”

Jyn grunts, stumbling into Cassian when he lifts her from the floor. She’s careful to hide the pain on her face and Cassian doesn’t comment on it, it won’t help.

“Yes. Did you get the data?”

Cassian nods. “I did.”

He slips Jyn’s arms around his shoulders and she buckles into him with a groan. 

“You’re okay,” he tells her. “We’re getting out of here.”

The Imperial klaxxon roars to life; they don’t have much time left. Troopers and ISB agents will be on their location in a few minutes. 

Cassian locks the detention block blast doors and destroys the console, hoping that buys them a few extra moments.

“You have a Plan B, right?” Jyn asks, watching skeptically as Cassian kicks at the floor, trying to find the loose stone panel.

One of the panels finally clicks and he drops down, lifting the stone away to reveal a thin set of stone steps that lead into the ground.

“Most of the time,” Cassian says.

He leads Jyn deeper into the base, through the emergency tunnels underground to the hangar bay. The Imperials haven’t found the tunnels yet; it was a miracle the rebels ever did. The Massassi people had built a series of underground tunnels connecting various points of the temple that were important. 

“This should be it,” Cassian says, listening carefully to the footfalls of stormtroopers overhead when they reach the exit, tracking their movements. Once they’re quieter, farther away, Cassian lifts another panel overhead and peers around the hangar bay.

“Can you move quickly?” Cassian asks, looking around at the remaining troopers standing guard. 

Jyn nods towards an impounded X-wing. “We take that one.”

Cassian would rather a shuttle, a U-wing, but at least the ship has a hyperdrive. He nods and follows Jyn.

“Take off the ion restraining bolts,” Jyn orders, already prying the panel from the back of the ship to dig her hands into the wires.

Cassian doesn’t have the time, knows he doesn’t, but he stops anyway and stares.

“What are you doing?”

“We don’t have an astromech, so we have to hotwire the ship manually,” Jyn says, giving him a look.

“Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Hey, over there!” A trooper yells, spotting them. “Halt! You’re under arrest!”

“Escape now, explain later,” Jyn says, sparking the wires together. 

The X-wing’s engines come to life, and not a moment sooner the alarm blares in the hangar. Cassian gets to work disabling the restraining bolts quickly.

The first one unlocks just as blaster fire rings through the hangar. Jyn grabs the blaster from Cassian’s belt and starts firing back.

“Keep going!”

Cassian dodges a red bolt that whizzes past, just missing his spine as he scrambles to the restraining bolts at the back landing gears.

“I’ve almost got it!”

The final restraining bolt snaps and unlocks. Cassian looks up and sees Koirva motioning to the troops. Their eyes meet, and a shot grazes his thigh. Cassian screams, putting his hand over the wound. Jyn’s voice sounds miles away, drowned out in a sea of stinging pain.

She grabs his shoulder and pulls, and Cassian stumbles to his feet.

“Cassian!” Jyn shouts, narrowly dodging a blaster bolt over her shoulder. They scramble and help each other up to the top hatch and drop into the cockpit. “We have to go!”

Numb, Cassian takes the controls with shaking hands, guiding the X-wing out of the hangar bay as the blast doors come to life with a shudder, scraping against the ground as they come together. 

“We aren’t going to make it!” Jyn shouts. “Cassian—!” 

They’re going to make it. They have to. Cassian wrenches the controls to the side and the X-wing banks a hard left, rolling onto its side as the blast doors close in on them. _Jyn might be right_ , he thinks, watching the doors slide half-way closed. There’s nothing left to do but try, the worst that could happen is the hangar bay doors close on the X-wing. They’ll be caught and interrogated and then ceremoniously executed, or the hangar doors will close at the right time and there won’t be anything left to capture. 

Cassian reroutes all power to the ion engines, full throttle, and the X-wing blasts past the hangar bay doors, clipping a laser cannon.

There’s more blaster fire on the tarmac but this is the easy part, Cassian knows, spotting the Star Destroyer entering orbit, a black mark blemishing the sunset.

“Strap in,” Cassian says, prepared for a fight.

It never comes. The Star Destroyer doesn’t send a squad of TIE fighters, and Cassian flies in close, skimming the starboard side of the Destroyer to better avoid the turbolaser fire.

“Cassian, we need to go,” Jyn says, leaning forward to watch outside the sensor window.

“You try flying and calculating hyperspace coordinates,” Cassian snips, taking a shot along the port side of the X-wing’s nose as he logs in the first coordinates that come to mind. 

He wishes they’d stopped for an astromech; knows there wouldn’t have been time for that. 

The X-wing’s control panel beeps back at him, confirming the set course, and Jyn grips his shoulders as the ship is rocked with more turbolaser fire from the Star Destroyer. Cassian focuses all the reserve power into the rear deflector shields as they fly to the edge of Yavin IV’s atmosphere.

“You’re really jumping from atmo?” Jyn asks, eyes wide. “With all the debris just floating out there?”

“We don’t have a choice,” Cassian says, punching the hyperdrive.

The stars wrap around them and Cassian takes Jyn’s hand in his, taking the chance.

  


* * *

  


“Yes, we made contact with the rebel survivors,” Koirva explains. “They’re out of the loop. The spy had mentioned Dantooine, and was still using the flagged alias _Joreth Sward_. I allowed them to escape, as you requested.”

Djo hums, pleased with the outcome.

“You have my highest commendations. I’m sure they’ll go a long way with your reinstatement in High Command.”

Koirva’s face pinches. Her reply, when it comes, is abrupt:

“I do hope you know what you’re doing, Colonel. High Command is not pleased you wasted the opportunity to capture such valuable fugitives.”

The comm is cut. Colonel Djo leans back in his chair, feeling smug. He was right when he figured the rebels would try to go back to one of their hives in search for more of their allies, there’s no reason he won’t be correct about this. He’ll just follow the trail they leave. He can wait. The more he can ensnare, the bigger the payoff. 

He settles in for the long wait.


	4. A Spark of Hope

**Xagobah**  
**Sector Unknown**  
**Outer Rim Territories**

“This is so boring, Neea,” Wyle complains, turning on his side. “And dangerous. Mom said not to sneak out, and all you do is look at comets. We see comets all the time here!”

Neea shushes her brother, keeping her eyes on the sky.

“It’s _fun_ , but you don’t know what that is, do you?”

Wyle huffs.

Neea spots another one and watches it soar through the sky, burning bigger and brighter the closer it gets. She sits up after a while, squinting. Sure she’s seen comets before, there are plenty that soar through Xagobah’s night sky, but this one’s coming closer to the village than she’s ever seen.

“Wyle, look!” She shakes her brother, who startles with a shout.

“What?! Is there another raid?”

“No bantha brain, _look!_ ” Neea points, seeing that the comet is coming even closer. “You think it’s going to crash into the fields again?”

They haven’t been growing much lately with all the comets crashing, it’s just that time of the cycle. But comets mean bad men, and bad men mean raids. By tomorrow they’ll be overrun with taskmasters and officers from the factories looking to break the comet’s remains up and haul them back to the factories to make weapons—that’s what her mother says, at least. 

“I don’t know,” Wyle muses, “It’s so close—look out!”

Neea ducks, wind kicked up from the comet blasting the hair from her face.

“It’s going to hit the village!” Wyle shouts, but when Neea straightens back up to peek, she doesn’t see the normal tail end of the comet, rather four individual thrusters. It doesn’t crash into the village, just stays at a steady altitude as it soars past.

“That’s not a comet, that’s a ship!” Neea screams, scrambling down from the roof of their house with adrenaline singing in her veins. “That’s an X-wing! They’re rebels! It’s heading for the scrap heap!”

Her brother grabs her arm before she can make a run for it.

“You _know_ what mom said, we shouldn’t even be out here—”

“They can help us! I know it!”

“Mom!”

“Wyle, what are you doing!?” Neea smacks Wyle’s hand, but he doesn’t let her go. “Stop it! I’m going to find them!”

“ _Mom_!”

Their mother comes rushing outside, eyes wide as she gathers them up in her arms.

“ _What_ did I tell you two? They could have caught you with all the noise you’re making, get inside!”

“Neea wants to go find the rebels!”

Their mother stops dead in her tracks, looking towards the scrap heap.

“The—never mind, get inside. You’re not going anywhere, I’ve told you two not to go up on the roof at night, and what do you do?”

Neea frowns, letting her mother herd her to her and Wyle’s bed. 

  


* * *

  


Jyn flinches, the bruise under her eye throbbing when Cassian places the bacta patch over it. 

Cassian mumbles under his breath, sticking it as gently as he can. Jyn thinks it might be something close to _sorry._

He moves his fingers her lips and Jyn shies away again, licking at the cut.

“Sorry, just hurts,” she lies, feeling her face heat up. She doesn’t need to be this nervous, they’ve been this close to each other plenty of times. 

Jyn hisses, gripping Cassian’s free hand in hers when her lip burns too.

“Almost done,” Cassian says.

“Thank you.”

There isn’t really anything to be done about her rib except another bacta patch to help the swelling and bruising and a few week’s bedrest that they can’t afford. 

“You pulled me from that cell before,” Jyn says quietly.

Cassian’s hand skitters across her bare skin, tickling the dark purple splotches blooming across her ribs.

“You remember that?” He asks.

Jyn nods, breathing easier when his fingers get back to work.

“When I was waiting for my audience with Mon Mothma. Melshi told me I wasn’t a prisoner, but I didn’t believe him.

“You came to escort me to the command center,” Jyn says when Cassian keeps working.

“I wanted to see you for myself,” Cassian says eventually. “It was almost too good to be true—we had been looking for scraps of leads to find out what the Empire was working on. Then Saw Gererra turns up, and it turns out he has a soft spot. One linked to Galen Erso himself.”

Jyn would have never considered herself Saw’s weak spot, but what happened on Jedha....

“You weren’t there on Wobani,” Jyn finds herself saying.

“I was needed on base, and I trusted Kaytoo to oversee the extraction.” A small smile softens Cassian’s face. “I would have paid a lot of credits to see you take Melshi out with a shovel though.”

“How do you know it wouldn’t have been you instead?” Jyn counters, finding herself grinning too.

“You’re probably right.”

Jyn prods the bacta patch on her eye gingerly. Cassian’s got experience patching himself up, but she doesn’t think he’s had much practice on others.

“I won’t let this happen again,” Cassian says.

“We didn’t have a choice,” Jyn reminds him.

“We always have a choice. That’s what we’re fighting for.”

“I knew what I was getting myself into,” Jyn says. 

Jyn starts to doze off in the silence that follows, eyelids drooping until she finally realizes that she’s exhausted, and that the last few weeks have finally caught up with her. Her muscles ache, and she’s tender to the touch _everywhere_. Jyn drifts off, Cassian’s eyes on her the whole time.

Cassian wakes her up in between fits of sleep. She hears his voice in her dreams, saying things like _concussion_ and _Jyn_ and _stay with me._

Jyn isn’t sure how long they spend in that abandoned junk heap, the first hours and days are a hazy blur of pain. They’ve been laying low for a week by the time she doesn’t feel like her ribs are going to break when she stands. 

Eventually, their peaceful silence is shattered.

A knock comes to the door late one night and Cassian grabs his blaster, fitting it back into its holster.

“Stay here,” he says.

For once Jyn does as he says, too exhausted to do much else.

She watches as he opens the door slowly, other hand resting casually on his hip near his blaster. He opens his mouth, but nothing comes. Something’s wrong.

Slowly, his hand comes away from his hip, and a voice tinier than his speaks.

“Hello.”

Jyn straightens up. It’s a child.

“Can I help you with anything?” Cassian finally asks.

“I saw your ship. You’re a rebel, right?”

“Who wants to know?”

“My village. We need help.”

Cassian hesitates, shooting Jyn a pained expression.

“I don’t think you’ve got the right—”

“I saw your X-wing! You’re rebels, you have to be! I can give you—well, I can’t give you credits, but I can get you food! Are you hungry? I bet you are.” 

Jyn purses her lips together to hide her smile when Cassian turns to give her an exasperated look. The kid isn’t wrong, they’re running out of rations; they didn’t exactly have time to pick up more on Yavin IV. 

Jyn gets up off the cot, staggering towards Cassian and their unexpected guest.

“Do you have medical supplies too?”

The child, a Xamster, blinks before nodding quickly.

“I can see what we have. We don’t have much with all the raids.”

“Sorry,” Cassian says with a tight smile, sliding the door back to hide them from the kid, “just give us a few moments.”

“Okay!”

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Cassian whispers. “We need to lay low, until you’re healed at least.”

“I’ll be fine if they have more bacta. We need to do this, Cassian. We need the supplies and the food.”

“And what if these raiders are Imperials, or they’re being paid off by Imperials? If the whole Empire knows that we’re still alive—”

“Then that means the Rebellion does too.” Jyn grabs Cassian’s hand. “This is our next chance. I can feel it.”

Cassian knows when to fight—he’s pulled Jyn from a few in the short time they’ve known each other, but Jyn knows how to survive, and this is surviving. 

Cassian frowns, looking grim.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” he tells Jyn before opening the door again. 

  


* * *

  


**Mako-Ta Space Docks**  
**Sector Unknown**  
**Outer Rim Territories**

“Here are those reports you requested on Imperial activity at Yavin IV, Ma’am.”

Mon Mothma takes the datapad, scanning the overview with a quick eye.

“Thank you, Draven.”

It’s a very casual, clear dismissal. Mon Mothma can still feel his presence though, and when she looks back up at him expectantly, the hesitant expression on his face gives her pause.

“Was there something you wanted to discuss?”

Draven clears his throat.

“No, Ma’am.” He nods and turns to walk out of her office. 

Frowning, Mon Mothma turns back to the datapad. She hadn’t been expecting much from the report, just the confirmation that the Imperials were unable to extract any data from the purged systems. 

She reads through it carefully, confirming what she had already expected of it: the Imperials were unable to divulge anything from the systems. That isn’t what catches her eye, though. 

The Imperials reported one additional prisoner received, much later than the initial ones detailed after the capture of rebel stragglers during the escape from Yavin IV. Mon Mothma’s heart leaps traitorously against her chest. _It couldn’t really be._

She reads on: prisoner detained. Status: unknown. Imperial code for _escaped_ and unwilling to admit failure. 

All of their agents have received word of Yavin IV, there would be no reason to return, unless...

Mon Mothma grabs for her commlink.

“Draven, I would like to speak with you.”

He’s there in record time.

“I want to ask you your opinion of the capture of the rebel prisoner outlined in this report.”

Draven swallows, nods; says what she wants to hear:

“I only know of a few agents who could pull something like that off.”

“Yes,” Mon Mothma agrees. “Quell, Syndulla, Delto, Organa, and—”

“Fulcrum, yes, I’m aware. _Andor._ ”

Yrica Quell and Hera Syndulla were off-base on their respective assignments, and both had reported in. Delto had signed off on this report, in this base, and the timeline of Organa’s capture didn’t coincide with the report’s.

“I want you to dispatch a squad to the Abrion sector. Search the closest planets to Scarif for information. Molavar, Varristad, Ukio, as far as Rishi and Roon if you must.”

Draven doesn’t have many tells, but he radiates an air of disappointment. Mon Mothma knows what he’s thinking, and it’s true. They barely have the resources and the men to keep the search for another base strong, they don’t have the luxury of wasting them on a wild bantha chase. But if this is Cassian Andor and Rogue One—they have to try, the Rebellion owes that much to them, to bring them back home. 

Ultimately, Draven doesn’t argue.

“I’ll put together a squad.”


End file.
